Page 79 of The Duchess Games

“And yet there’s sand on your hem.”

She glanced down. “So there is.”

“Why is that, then, Miss Sparrow?” His question was suspicious, bordering on gleeful. And loud. He wanted an audience. Someone to blame.

“I live in a fishing village,” Cat pointed out. “There is always sand on my person.”

Viola rolled her eyes and fluttered her lashes behind his shoulder, looking like a confused goose. When Cat just stared at her, Viola mouthed a curse, and then pressed the back of her hand to her brow, fluttering her eyelashes again. Oh. She wanted Cat to swoon.

“Miss Sparrow, you will answer me, in the name of the King.”

She fluttered her eyelashes.

“There you are,” Callum said smoothly before she could drop to the floor. She heard the stone in his voice, even as he kept his every movement painfully polite. Cat curtsied, her skin prickling a warning.

“Your Grace,” Mr. Armstrong greeted him effusively. “I was about to send for you.”

“You were going to send for me, Mr. Armstrong?”

He gulped at the icy rebuke. No one but the royal family sent for a duke.

“Beg pardon,” Mr. Armstrong said. He reddened but he did not back down.

Double bollocks.

“I received distressing news about the lady. And illegal smuggling activity.”

Callum raised an eyebrow. “Don’t be absurd.”

“She knows something, Your Grace. She lives in the village.”

“The village borders my estate, Armstrong. Tread carefully.”

“Of course, of course! I only meant that she might be of help to my investigation.”

“She might,” Callum said. “But not tonight. I have come to claim our second dance,” he held out his hand. It was a courteous command but a command, nonetheless. Cat couldn’t have said why it sent ice through her.

Cat didn’t know if Armstrong would have pushed further, or even if he truly believed she had some kind of information. But he was no match for the Winter twins.

“Mr. Armstrong,” Summer interrupted smoothly. She wore a stunning gown patterned all over with red pomegranates and green leaves. Emeralds shone around her throat and wound through her hair. “We are in need of a fourth for a game of whist in the card room. Say you’ll join us?”

Mr. Armstrong did what any sane man would do when faced with a request from a duke’s beautiful sister. He stammered and bowed. “O-of course, your ladyship.”

Summer led him away. Cat’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

Not for long.

“Miss Sparrow.”

Cat took Callum’s arm because what else was she to do. No amount of premonition could change this. He did not lead her to the dancefloor but instead out of the ballroom altogether and into his library. Not his library. She’d give anything not to have those memories tainted.

A single candle burned on his desk. He wore his signet ring. And anger in his eyes.

“Callum.”

“Miss Sparrow.”

He advanced. She swallowed, stumbling back a step. She saw the walls rising up all around him, all stone and duty, but there was fire there too. And it wasn’t the kind that warmed you on a cold night. Still when he leaned closer, she tilted her head back. His mouth hovered, just above hers. He rubbed his thumb along the neckline of her gown, her exposed cleavage, dipped lower. She caught her breath, every nerve sparkling in anticipation. He grazed her nipple, exhaled.